


Evidence

by cemetery_driven



Series: crimelord 'verse [4]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Kidnapping Fetish, M/M, Masochism, Rope Bondage, Sadism, Videotaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemetery_driven/pseuds/cemetery_driven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank decides to take Gerard out again, into the forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gerardwaysgay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerardwaysgay/gifts).



> This may have been inspired by a serial killer. For Danny. As always.

 

Gerard had been asleep a good couple of hours, and it didn't seem he'd be too energetic anytime in the near future. Frank had tucked him in with his black leather and steel collar, some codeine and some Xanax, and his angelboy had fallen asleep with Doom Patrol loosely held between his fingers and a little bit of drool coming out the side of his mouth. He'd be a bit groggy for a little while after waking, but that would wear off reasonably quickly.

 

Frank had ducked to the hardware store, and had some forty feet of black nylon rope. He'd spent some time hacking at it in the kitchen to cut it in half, and then stuffed one in the bottom drawer as a spare. He grabbed the electrical tape – duct tape was prettier and shinier, but he knew that using it would tear off layers of skin that he kind of didn't want to destroy like that – and stuffed the switchblade in his back pocket, before wrapping the rope in circles so it didn't tangle and heading upstairs.

 

His little pet always looked so perfect when he was sleeping. Gerard was curled into a ball, blankets held up around his neck, face buried in the silk-soft covers. His face was soft, completely peaceful, and Frank knew he hadn't been having nightmares lately and that was probably why. Even when he had been having the bad dreams, the little noises he made, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones when his eyelids fluttered in his sleep, just everything about the way he looked when he wasn't awake made Frank's stomach twinge. Gerard was just this perfect being, and when he was asleep, it only accentuated that fact and sprinkled it with a dose of tempting innocence.

 

Frank pulled a strip of tape off the roll, tearing it off with his teeth. Gerard stirred slightly, but didn't wake. He would soon enough.

 

Frank slowly got on his knees behind Gerard, the tape stuck to one finger as he slowly, gently pried the layers of blankets from Gerard's grip. He needed a clearer shot, so to speak, or all he was going to get was a layer of fuzz stuck to the tape. Gerard stirred again, and mumbled something incoherent. Frank inhaled, and pressed the tape across Gerard's mouth.

 

Gerard jerked awake, and flung out an arm. Frank pressed all his weight down on Gerard's ribs, so he didn't get too far, and pulled the switchblade out of his pocket. He held it against Gerard's jawline, blunt edge against his skin, but he didn't know that. For all Gerard knew, that was the razor-sharp blade mere layers of skin away from his major arteries.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank hissed, adjusting his weight so he didn't lose Gerard to a stray twitch or kick. “Shut the fuck up, and don't fucking move, or I'll cut your fucking throat.”

 

Gerard froze, his entire fucking body went completely still, not even a rise-and-fall of the ribs from his breathing. He nodded, just with his eyes, barely a movement of his head, and Frank knew it was because he didn't want a fucking bloodbath.

 

“Good. Don't try and fucking run, either, or I'll put a hole in your pretty little skull.”

 

There wasn't much sense in Gerard's muffled response, and Frank pulled his wrists behind his back, looping the rope around them with practised ease. He hadn't been a boy scout, he'd just spent far too much time learning ropes from online tutorials. He paused, momentarily, as he finished the last knot and tugged to check it was tight enough – he wouldn't be able to tie Gerard's feet yet. There were stairs to go down, a car to get into, and picking Gerard up wasn't easy. It wasn't a case of weight, or strength, just that Gerard had a good few inches on him and a steep staircase plus the added off-center body wouldn't work too well.

 

He could drag him down the stairs, but Frank wanted to save the damage for later. He didn't want to break his little pet's tailbone on the edge of a step either.

 

Frank picked up a tie off the nightstand, and tied it around Gerard's head, covering his eyes. He waved his hand just in front of him, and heard nothing but the nervous whining coming from the back of his throat. He'd have to walk Gerard down to the garage, get him in the trunk, and tie his feet. Getting him out later wouldn't be too hard. He just had to make sure there weren't any lethal rocks or branches around.

 

Frank grabbed Gerard's bound wrists on one hand, and pulled him up to sit. “Get out of the bed,” he hissed, his voice eerily calm. Gerard's feet hit the floor, and he wobbled slightly when he tried to stand without his arms to use as balance. Frank gripped him tight and nudged him forward, made sure his stance was steady, and rose to his feet beside him, leading him forward with a hand on his bicep.

 

Gerard's confused little noises were making sparks shoot down Frank's spine already.

 

The stairs were difficult, and going down them was more difficult than going up them like they'd had to last time. Gravity was working against them, the stairs were steep, it was dark, and a misstep could mean a broken collarbone for both of them, or worse. Frank moved slowly, his grip vice-like, probably leaving fingerprint-bruises through the thin fabric of Gerard's shirt. He stepped first, traced the outline of each ledge with the toe of his ratty old Converse, before tugging lightly and urging Gerard forward.

 

He hadn't anticipated the navigation of the staircase to take quite so long, but he sighed with relief when the toe of his shoe hit solid floor again. From there, silently, with a small stumble from Gerard as he hit the landing, Frank dragged him through the kitchen toward the garage.

 

“Don't try and bust my fucking trunk either,” Frank murmured, as Gerard tripped slightly over the small step onto the concrete floor of the garage. “You bust it, I bust your skull. That car is worth more than you are. That car's fucking air freshener is worth more than you are.”

 

Gerard let out some muffled string of curse words, and Frank tugged sharply on his hair. He felt a few strands give way, tangle around his knuckles. “Shut the fuck up.”

 

He popped the trunk and opened it, leading Gerard backwards into it. Gerard made a muffled scream when his knees hit the bumper and gave way and he toppled back into the trunk, his legs kicking out, Frank narrowly avoiding a bare foot to the face. Gerard screamed again when Frank smacked him, as hard as he could at the particular angle, in the face.

 

“Don't fucking kick me, you stupid cunt,” he hissed, and shuffled Gerard's torso around so his legs could fit. It took some time and effort, but he didn't kick again. Frank made sure there weren't any breakable extremities sticking out and slammed the trunk down, rounded the car, and hopped in the driver's seat. He flicked through his CDs briefly, trying to pick something mildly fitting, but nothing stood out. He stuck on The Smiths' greatest hits instead, pushed the button to open the garage door, and pulled out into the open.

 

It was dead-dark, and Frank noted it said 3:52 on the dashboard clock, which was completely inaccurate, and translated to roughly one in the morning. It wouldn't take too long to get to where he wanted to go, but it'd take long enough that he might get antsy and need to stop and stretch his spine. He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of the glovebox, rolled the window down a couple of inches, stuck one in his mouth, and lit it. It tasted like it always did, like tobacco and nicotine, like bitterness and a dry throat. A lot like Gerard. Gerard always tasted like cigarettes.

 

He blew a stream of grayish smoke out the window, and kept his eyes on the trail. He didn't want to hit a fucking bear or whatever lurked around in the night time around Jersey. He never knew, never cared to know. He just didn't want to damage his goods any more than the damage he inflicted.

 

Frank had finished three cigarettes, without even chain-smoking, by the time they arrived at the little clearing. He kept the headlights on, but shut off the engine, and as he popped the trunk and went to collect his prize, he used the emergency flashlight from the backseat to check for dead things and rocks. He'd hit gold, apparently, because the most he had to kick away was an oversized stick with a few nasty looking thorns.

 

Gerard whimpered when the light from the flashlight hit him in the face. Even through the blindfold, it had to jolt him a little bit. Frank smirked, grabbed Gerard's bicep, and heaved him upwards. With a bit of adjustment, and a carefully-placed hand on top of Gerard's head as a buffer between it and the latch of the trunk, he managed to get him out and onto the grass. Gerard's feet were shaky, his legs probably asleep, and he stumbled. Frank stepped back and let him fall to his knees and slammed the trunk shut.

 

Frank picked him up onto his feet, and clumsily dragged him around to the front of the car. The headlights made for better lighting, better visibility. He shoved Gerard forward, and he went down again, shoulder slamming into the ground and he let out a groan of pain. Frank switched off the flashlight, set it on the hood, and pulled out the videocamera. He paused, silent, fiddling with it to get the right angle. He'd need both hands, at least for the most part. He wouldn't catch everything, but hopefully, he'd get enough.

 

“Get the fuck up,” Frank hissed, pulling Gerard off the ground again. His legs were still trembling, and Frank could see the vague shadow of a growing hard-on in his sweatpants. He bit his lip briefly, tongue flicking over his lip ring. He untied the knot at the back of Gerard's head, and slipped the makeshift blindfold into his back pocket. Gerard's eyes were watering, he was blinking like mad, trying to adjust to the brightness of the headlights.

 

“So fucking pretty,” Frank murmured, and tangled his fingers in Gerard's hair, pulling tight. He whimpered, and his eyes wouldn't stop watering. Frank pressed a kiss to his mouth, through the plastic tape, and tore it off.

 

Gerard screamed briefly and jerked backwards, before Frank grabbed his throat and forced him to meet his eyes. There was a thick red mark where the tape had been, and a tiny trickle of blood on his lower lip. Gerard spluttered, and Frank kissed him full-force, tongue and teeth, his hand still tight around Gerard's throat.

 

Frank shoved him backwards, and there was a small thud when Gerard hit the ground, wrists-first. He whined, and Frank chuckled softly.

 

“I'm gonna have so much fun with you, little whore,” he murmured, and made sure Gerard wasn't going to bolt with a sharp kick to his ribcage. Gerard gasped, winded, and curled in on himself, and Frank used the opportunity to grab the duffel bag out of the backseat. He set it down near the front tyre, and pulled out the first thing his fingers wrapped around.

 

The belt felt heavy and familiar in his hands, the worn leather too stretched-out for either of them to use anymore, but Frank liked recycling shit. He swapped it back and forth between his hands for a moment, getting accustomed to its weight, and stuck his hand in the bag again, finding another length of rope. He shoved the belt in his back pocket, and cracked his neck as he moved back over to Gerard's curled-up form.

 

Frank got on his knees and grabbed Gerard's ankles. Gerard kicked, screamed, and Frank knew it was probably because he was ticklish.

 

“Stay fucking still or I'll tear out your fucking tendons,” he hissed, and Gerard twitched but didn't kick again. Frank looped the rope around one ankle, then the other, and he made sure they were tight – tight around the ankles, and just-loose-enough in the length between them. He wanted to move his little pet around a little bit, when he felt like it.

 

“Please,” Gerard whimpered, his voice trembling. “Please, sir-”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank snapped, and smacked Gerard across the face again, revelling in the little gasp that escaped his lips. Frank pushed Gerard over onto his knees, his face pressed into the ground, and he heard the sputtering noises of Gerard trying to get grass and dirt out of his mouth.

 

Gerard shuddered at the cool breeze hitting the skin of his ass as Frank tugged down his sweatpants. No underwear, as always – Gerard had to ask permission to wear underwear to bed, and he hadn't asked earlier. _Good boy._

 

Frank rose to his feet again, and shook the tension out of his arms. He grabbed the belt, wrapped the buckle end around his hand, and paused. Just to make Gerard shiver, to tense up all over, he paused, waited.

 

Gerard squealed when the first strike his his ass, and Frank laughed. Not just a little chuckle, a full-blown, sadistic laugh. Frank felt like the world was nothing, like it didn't exist beyond the stretch of the headlights' beams. He didn't have to worry about anyone hearing, or interruptions, or breaking anything they owned. 

 

He let loose. His mind blurred, his arm moving, the sound of the worn leather colliding with the pale flesh of Gerard's ass, and the whimper-screams that followed each one the only things Frank's mind could maintain any focus on. Gerard's knees gave way, and he jerked to the ground, his face grazing against the dirt and grass, and Frank shoved the belt back in the duffel bag. Gerard's ass was red enough for now, slowly turning purple in the middle of the strokes. 

 

Frank pulled out the chain leash with the pretty black strap for his fingers, and grabbed a fistful of Gerard's hair. He whimpered again, and when Frank dragged him upwards and attached the leash to his collar, his face was stained with tears and had blades of dry grass stuck to his cheekbones. 

 

“On your feet,” Frank seethed, pulling Gerard up with the leash, one hand gripping his arm for extra support. He still stumbled and faltered, but Frank held him steady and reached out to grab the camera. 

 

“Look at it, whore,” he murmured. “Look right into the little red light and tell me your name.”

 

Gerard sniffled and swallowed, shaking his head to try and get the dirt and grass off his face. It didn't work. “My name is Gerard,” he mumbled. Frank slapped him across the face with his spare hand, and Gerard flinched at the impact. Frank grabbed his jaw, and forced him to stare directly into the camera.

 

“I want your full name, and I want you to tell me what you are.”

 

Gerard's breathing was shaky, timid, and he tripped over his words. “My name is... is Gerard, Gerard Art-Arthur Way...” he trailed off, and swallowed hard. “I don't know what I am-”

 

The collision of Frank's hand to his face was harder than the last, and he sobbed audibly. “I'm sorry, Frankie, I just don't-”

 

“Fuck off, you don't know,” Frank hissed, grabbing Gerard's face again. “You know what you are. You know what you do. You know what you are to me.”

 

Gerard sobbed again. “I'm... I'm useless, I don't know-”

 

Frank hit him again. “Fucking think! You fucking know this, you dumb slut!”

 

Gerard curled in on himself. “I'm a whore,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

 

“You're gonna have to be louder than that, and look at the fucking camera when you speak,” Frank seethed, his voice dripping venom. Gerard could feel the bruising starting to form on his cheekbone. He raised his head, eyes staring straight into the lens, and swallowed harshly.

 

“I'm a whore,” he repeated, his voice still shaky, but coherent. “My name is Gerard Way and I am a whore. I'm a slut. I'm a whore.”

 

Frank bit his lip and nodded. “Continue. What makes you a whore, Gerard?”

 

Gerard sniffed, his nose threatening to start running. “I... I love cock in my mouth,” he said, almost questioning, and Frank nodded in encouragement. “I love taking in in the ass too. Anywhere, really, I'll let you put it. I swallow too, I don't waste it, not unless you want me to.”

 

“Keep going,” Frank demanded, and started undoing the top button of his jeans slowly. “Tell me everything, babydoll.”

 

“I'll let you fuck me however you want, wherever you want, whenever,” Gerard rambled, hoping it was good enough. “I'll let you tie me up and use me, I don't even care about coming. I just care if I get a load in my mouth, or my ass, or all over my face if that's what you like to see... I'll fuck myself if you wanna watch, I'll even let your friends fuck me-”

 

Frank smacked him, hard, and Gerard squeaked, unprepared. “Little too far there, sweetie, don't go telling lies. Who's whore are you, babydoll?”

 

Gerard cleared his throat, and the shakiness in his voice came back full-force. “I belong to Frank Iero, and he's the only one allowed to fuck me. No one else can even touch me. I belong to him. I'm his petslave and his personal fucktoy-”

 

“Yeah, you are,” Frank interrupted, and tugged down on Gerard's hair. “So now, I'm gonna use your mouth for a little bit.”

 

Gerard fell to his knees, a short stab of pain shooting up them as his kneecaps hit the solid ground, but pushed it to the back of his mind. He looked up at Frank, his eyes wide and glassy, his lips pink and wet. “Please fuck my whore mouth, Sir,” he whispered, and Frank pushed the head of his dick between those pretty little lips with a low groan.

 

He didn't have to wait for Gerard to get used to the presence of cock in his mouth. He did it enough, that it took a good fifteen minutes before his jaw started aching. Frank was proud of that, proud of how well his little pet had progressed. He still hadn't quite conquered the gag reflex, but when Frank's cock his the back of Gerard's throat, he paused briefly, and it took that split-second longer for Gerard's shoulders to shake as he gagged. When Frank slid his cock out for just a moment, to let his babydoll catch his breath, a thick string of spit trailed from his lips.

 

“Look at you,” Frank murmured, running his cock over Gerard's mouth like lipstick. “Talk to the camera, babydoll.”

 

Gerard's breathing was ragged. “Am I getting better, Sir? Am I getting better at the deepthroating?” he asked, his voice soft.

 

“Yeah, you are, Gee,” Frank replied, slipping his cock back in Gerard's mouth, thrusting shallowly as Gerard's tongue worked in circles around his length. “You're getting real fucking good.”

 

Gerard made a noise at the back of his throat that sounded something like contentment, or pride. Frank toyed with his lip ring with his teeth, his camera trained on Gerard's face, those glassy hazel eyes staring back at him both right in front of him and on the little viewscreen. 

 

When Frank shoved Gerard back, his hands slipped on the grass and he ended up on his side, arms stretched behind him, knees bent at an awkward angle with the rope between his ankles. Frank nudged him with his foot, and Gerard awkwardly rolled onto his back, his hands stuck under his tailbone and the knots digging in uncomfortably.

 

Frank landed a swift kick to Gerard's ribs, and he curled over. It made Frank shudder, the way he contorted against the rope with the little whines and whispers. He got down on his knees, camera as close to Gerard's face as he could get it without losing the focus. “Say something special for me, babydoll. Something really special, and I won't slit your pretty little throat after how hard you've been working to have my cock in it. No one would hear you scream, but you wouldn't scream much. No one would find you either, I'd make sure of that. Gotta say something real special, little slut, come on.”

 

Gerard gasped, still a little winded from Frank's kick to his ribs, his wrists and tailbone starting to ache with the knots digging in. “I'm... I'm your little whore, Sir, and only your little whore. You're my world, Frankie, you're what I live for and... and please, please, please fuck me Sir, please fuck your little petslave, make me bleed, make me scream, bruise me and beat me and make me hurt because fuck, Sir, I love it, I love it when you hurt me, I love it when you make me cry for you, I love you and only you, Sir.”

 

Frank leaned back and set the camera a little ways away on the ground, so it'd capture everything properly. “Good, babydoll. Now, roll over.”

 

Gerard twisted and grunted and tried to get himself over, tried to throw his balance right, and Frank humored his frustrated contorting and gave him a push. Just a little push, right on the hip, just to get him over that middle point and onto his stomach. Gerard rose up slowly, awkwardly, onto his knees, a little shaky and off-balance. Frank steadied him, and crawled around behind him, sliding his jeans down over his thighs.

 

“You look so pretty like this, babydoll,” he murmured. “All tied up, face planted into the dirt. That pretty little ass – you're starting to bruise, by the way – all perked up for me.”

 

Gerard spat out a mouthful of grass. “Please, Frank- Sir. Please, Sir, please fuck your little petslave.”

 

Frank landed a hard punch to his ribs, and Gerard made a loud groan of pain but didn't move as much as he had with the kicks. “Of course I'm gonna fuck you, babydoll,” he murmured, laughing lightly. “If I don't fuck you, you're gonna be able to walk tomorrow, and I can't have that.”

 

Gerard started to form a response, but whatever he'd been thinking of was cut short when Frank pushed the head of his cock into his ass, dry. Dry and painful and Gerard felt like he was going to fall apart, like the world was exploding.

 

“Just kidding,” Frank giggled, and pulled back out. He grabbed a tiny, airline-sized packet of lube from his back pocket, slicked himself up, and pressed a small, teasing kiss to Gerard's asshole. Gerard twitched and unintentionally moved back into the touch – fuck, it had been a long fucking time since either of them had given or received a rimjob, he had to change that – and Frank landed another hard slap to his asscheek.

 

“Sorry!” Gerard squeaked, his toes curling. “I'm sorry, Sir. Your whore is sorry, I shouldn't have done that. It just tickled and felt so good, Sir-”

 

Frank heard the words transform into a long, drawn-out moan as he slid back in, fully lubed. Frank adjusted his grip on Gerard's leash, using it as leverage to get deeper. He paused, just for a moment, once he was fully inside, and Gerard's fingers moved, just-noticeable.

 

“You sure?” Frank asked.

 

“Make me hurt, Sir,” Gerard begged, his voice almost desperate sounding. “I want to hurt, please.”

 

Frank raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Gerard couldn't see it. “ _Hurt_ hurt?”

 

Gerard's tongue darted out to wet his lips and he nodded as best he could. “Yes, please, Sir.”

 

Frank didn't hesitate any further, and started thrusting. Slow, but deep, at first, mostly because any faster and the tension of Gerard's muscles would probably cause damage to both of them. It didn't take long for Gerard to almost melt around him, just that little bit, just enough for Frank to be able to move freely, and when the tension faded just-enough, Frank started thrusting into his ass at full-speed.

 

Gerard's thighs were shaking and Frank could see his toes and fingers curl, the pretty little tears run down his eyelashes, down his face, into the grass. Every movement Frank made made him twitch, pulled a little whimper-sob from the back of his throat. Frank couldn't find a word to describe it, to describe exactly how it felt – tight and hot, but cold against his bare ass, Gerard's bruises and the rope digging into his skin and the wrecked out little sounds he made an overwhelming image of broken. Broken and perfect and  _his._

 

Frank pulled hard on the leash, cutting off Gerard's air supply inch by inch, the leather collar digging into his throat. Frank hoped it left some kind of mark, even if only for a little while. Gerard sounded even prettier when he was trying to breathe and failing, and he tensed up and tightened just so fucking deliciously. It was just an added bonus that Gerard liked when he couldn't breathe just as much as Frank liked stopping his air supply.

 

“If you pass out, or you come, before I count down from five,” Frank said, his voice jumping slightly with the rhythm of his thrusts. “I'm not fucking you for a month, and I'm locking you in the guest room for a week without me.”

 

Gerard made some ragged noise, and a struggled nod. Frank wrapped the leash around his hand again, pulling it tighter, Gerard's head just-barely touching the ground. Maybe he'd turn purple, Frank liked it when his babydoll turned purple.

 

“Five,” Frank hissed, and adjusted his thrust just the most minuscule amount, just enough to make Gerard emit a choked, just-audible moan. “Good little whore, aren't you?”

 

Gerard nodded again, as best he could. “Four.”

 

Frank wasn't letting up, his pace hard and fast and just fucking  _dirty_ , and Gerard's thighs were shaking. If his knees gave out, Frank would follow, would just fuck him into the dirt and grass, leave scratches from the ground up his thighs. It'd be hot, but Frank liked his little pet on his knees more.

 

“Three.”

 

Gerard let out a high-pitched whine, his hands balled into fists and straining at the rope. His feet curled and uncurled, like he was trying not to kick and scream. Frank knew he was hitting Gerard's spot dead-on, and he knew Gerard was struggling to keep himself restrained.

 

“Two,” Frank murmured, and Gerard's entire body was shaking. Not just his thighs, his thighs always trembled when he was close, or when he was trying to stop himself. His entire fucking body was shuddering, almost vibrating, and Frank could see his eyes pressed shut and running with tears, the dirt and muck stuck to his cheeks, the bruise forming on one side, the way he was trying desperately to get some form of air in his lungs.

 

Frank leaned in, as close to Gerard's head as he could while maintaining his pace, and he could feel it building up faster than he'd anticipated in the pit of his stomach. It had crept up on him, he hadn't realized he was close like this.

 

“One, babydoll,” he whispered, just loud enough for Gerard to hear, as he let go of the leash. Gerard's knees gave way, and Frank grabbed at his hips, keeping him as close to upright as possible. He was too fucking close to go changing shit up now. Frank felt Gerard's jizz drip between his fingertips, moaned, and stuck his hand in Gerard's hair, making it sticky.

 

“Dirty little fucking whore,” he hissed, biting hard into his lip. He tasted blood, faintly, and when he came, his hips wouldn't stop moving. He groaned, loud, right from the back of his throat, his fingers tightening in Gerard's fucked-up hair, a low whimper escaping Gerard's lips at the tug. 

 

Frank let go of Gerard's hips and when he did, he followed Gerard to collapse on the ground. It was dirty, but Frank didn't even care. His head was still swirling from coming, and his breathing was almost as ragged as Gerard's was. Almost. 

 

“Thank you, Sir,” Gerard murmured, his voice completely raw and wrecked. Frank would make him something to soothe his throat when they got back. In the meantime, he'd have to deal with the little twitches his cock made when Gerard sounded that fucked-out.

 

“Tell the camera again, babydoll,” Frank sighed, still trying to catch his breath fully. “Tell the camera for me.”

 

Gerard turned his head to look at the camera, and Frank brushed his hair out of his face. Gerard licked his lips and swallowed.

 

“I'm Frank Iero's property. I'm his little fucktoy, his little petslave, his little-little private fucking slut,” Gerard breathed, rambling a little. “I'm Frank Iero's property and I'm only his.”

 

Frank pressed a kiss to Gerard's head, wincing as his lips hit a wad of come, and rested his head on Gerard's shoulder. Once they caught their breath, he'd get Gerard out of these ropes and take them home, make him some tea for his throat, and huddle down under all the covers with his little pet.

 

_His_ little pet.

 


End file.
